Green and Gold, Red and Silver
by whimsycality
Summary: Connecting moments of certain Roswell characters growing up in the HP verse and the relationships and lives that are changed as a result - a darker, highly political, more in depth view of the magical world and the complexities of its culture. No knowledge of Roswell needed.
1. Blood

**Title:** Green and Gold, Red and Silver

**Disclaimer:** I own absolutely nothing, all characters and original Roswell/HP verse settings belong to other very lucky people.

**Pairings/Couples/Category:** UC/Crossover. Liz, Alex, Tess, and Ava will be the main characters from the Roswell verse although Michael, Isabel, and Kyle all have their parts to play. Max and Maria will also be mentioned from time to time. From the HP side of things the main characters will be Blaise, Draco, Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Luna, although many other characters will be used. As for pairings…well that would be telling! (Although I can promise no canon pairings for either verse)

**Rating:** Teen for now, will probably delve into Mature at some point.

**Summary:** Connecting moments of certain Roswell characters growing up in the HP verse and the relationships and lives that are changed as a result - a darker, highly political, more in depth view of the Wizarding world and the complexities of its culture.

**Warnings:** Starts pre series and will continue hopefully through all books. Not sure how much of the books I'll keep intact since I'll be mostly focusing on relationships, character and culture development. It will be all HP verse, no aliens here. Will contain violence and romance as the story progresses.

**Author's Note:** The characters in this story are going to act and speak in a more mature fashion than most would expect given their ages. I believe this is justified by their upbringings and the expectations placed upon them, however, if you have specific criticisms, please feel free to share with me your opinion.

* * *

**_~x~_**

**_Blood_**

Liz suppressed the urge to fidget, her small, round face solemn as she sat perfectly still on the heavily embroidered chair. Blaise sat in the chair next to her, his face equally stoic, as they listened to their mother and Mrs. Malfoy discussing politics and society and which families were worth maintaining friendships with in the complicated political landscape that had come about in the years since Voldemort fell.

Not that a stranger would have understood that the seeming light conversation between the beautiful women encompassed such topics, but the Zabini children had been trained since birth to understand the nuances of subtlety and intrigue that were the bread and water of pureblood culture.

Mr. Malfoy walked into the room, exuding power and charm, a petite blond boy at his heels. A quicksilver smile flashed over the boy's face as he saw them before hiding once more behind his natural regal expression. "Good afternoon, Imelda, children," Mr. Malfoy greeted, placing a hand on Mrs. Malfoy's shoulder and smiling warmly at all of them. Well, as warmly as Mr. Malfoy ever smiled.

"Hello, Lucius," their mother responded and Liz and Blaise murmured similar greetings.

"Why don't you show them your new books, Draco; we'll send Dobby for you when it's time for lunch," Mr. Malfoy suggested by way of command, gently pushing Draco towards the other two children.

Liz and Blaise looked to their mother for permission and she gave them a proud smile and a nod. Rising to their feet, they followed Draco out of the room at a sedate pace that in no way betrayed their inner eagerness.

The moment they were out of sight, and hearing range, of the parents, Draco rounded on them, his silver eyes gleaming with silent laughter. "At last the Zabinis return! I thought your mother would never come back from her latest honeymoon."

Blaise rolled his eyes and Liz sighed. "Husband number four wanted to see the entire wizarding world; it was a long trip."

Draco wrinkled his nose in clear distaste. "I notice that he's not with you today."

"He decided to join a Tibetan monastery and leave all of his worldly possessions to mother," Blaise said dryly. "When we left, he looked very content meditating in the monastery's garden."

"How...tragic for your mother to be abandoned so callously," Draco responded diplomatically, earning a chuckle from Liz and snort from her brother. "Shall we retire to the library to distract you from your grief at losing another stepfather, even though this one is still breathing?" he continued earnestly.

Blaise gave him a crude two fingered salute he'd learned from watching muggles and Liz laughed again, grabbing both of their hands and tugging them towards the stairs. "Come on, there's a spell I found last time that I didn't get to try and I want to see if I can make it work."

"And what does this glorious spell do?" Draco queried as the boys allowed themselves to be tugged along, more than willing to indulge Liz's enthusiasm for magic. They still had two years left before they would attend Hogwarts, three in Liz's case, and all were determined to live up to their families' heritage.

"It lets you turn any potion into a fine mist that is sprayed from your wand so that you can affect an entire room, no matter how large," Liz responded, her dark eyes flashing with fascination. "There are so many possibilities."

Draco laughed and Blaise shook his head with a mock sigh. "Mother will be pleased that one of us took after her. I know she already has you brewing some of the potions she sells."

Liz nodded, then curved her bottom lip into a dejected pout. "But only the legal ones. She hasn't taught me any recipes for the others yet."

"You're only eight," Draco told her, in the tone one uses to state the blindingly obvious. "She probably wants you to hit your magical maturity before you start risking Azkaban."

Liz gave them a smile tinged with deviltry. "I'm sure I can talk her into teaching me some of them sooner than that." Her face darkened. "After all, I'll need something to do while you two are away at school.

The two boys exchanged glances and then tugged on her arms, halting her steps as they both wrapped an arm around her in a threeway hug. "It's only one year," her brother told her consolingly.

"And we'll write every day," Draco promised. "And come home every holiday."

Liz hugged them back and then pulled away, her expression perfectly calm although her eyes glittered fiercely. "You'd better, now come on. I intend to have the highest potions scores since Snape himself."

Both boys chuckled as they resumed walking towards the Malfoy family library. "Mother won't be pleased unless you place higher than he did - she never liked him," Blaise said with a slight smirk. "He tried to advise her on a potion once; I'm amazed he's still breathing."

Draco shot him an icy look, ruined by the amusement glinting in his grey eyes. "That's my godfather whose death you're discussing so cavalierly."

Liz grinned at him, having once again banished her frustration over their age difference. "And your godfather is an arrogant, greasy berk. A brilliant berk, but arrogant and greasy nonetheless. Between his attention to hygiene and the foolish decision to brandish that arrogance in front of Imelda Zabini, it is amazing that Mother didn't arrange something painfully fatal for him."

"Of course, aside from herself, she does consider him to be one of the world's best potioneers," Blaise interjected. "And Mother certainly isn't willing to teach at Hogwarts. So she may have left him alive for practical reasons."

"Just don't let _him_ hear you mention anything of the sort," Draco said with a smirk. "Or you may be the ones ingesting something painfully fatal."

Liz nodded thoughtfully. "It would be difficult for me to accomplish my goals of total academic domination if the Potions Master is trying to kill me. Don't worry, Draco, I shall be more respectful than you."

Draco frowned, looking as if he wasn't sure if he should feel insulted or reassured, and Blaise chuckled, then pushed them both through the doorway of the library, which they had finally reached. "Come on you two, I'd like to get some reading in before they fetch us for lunch."

"Since when are you so academically inclined?" Draco asked him curiously as Liz left them behind to find the book she'd mentioned earlier.

Blaise snorted. "I am the least academically inclined of the three of us and quite content to stay that way. But I saw a book your father had about the building of Hogwarts and I thought we might find something interesting in there. Who knows what's been forgotten in a castle that old?"

Draco's eyes lit up and the two boys exchanged a conspiratorial grin as they followed Liz into the stacks. Heritage had more than one perk, and all three were going to leave their mark on Hogwarts.


	2. Friendship

_**Friendship**_

Neville huddled on the floor of his Grandmother's closet, still not quite sure how his friend had talked him into this. "She's going to kill me," he moaned, burying his head in his hands, his fear overwhelming the pain in his legs from the pile of extremely pointy shoes he was kneeling on.

Alex pulled his hands away from his face, grinning madly, a glint in his blue eyes that Neville had come to fear and respect. "She won't kill you; you're the last heir to the Longbottom line." He paused, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "She could transfigure you into a toad until you're of age to breed though…"

Neville groaned again and thudded his head back against the closet wall, not even wincing as pain shot through his skull. "Thank you ever so much for those comforting words. I'll be sure to give your father that punishment idea when we get caught."

"Then we'll just have to not get caught!" the darker haired boy exclaimed, his grin widening to demented proportions as he slid the wand he'd 'borrowed' from the Longbottom family wand case out of his sleeve and pulled Neville to his feet. "Now come on, we have work to do!"

Over the next hour, giggles, thuds, and occasional words they really shouldn't know were heard from the depths of the wardrobe. Rory, the Longbottom family house elf, popped into the room once and stared at the closet with an amused glint in his bulbous yellow eyes before popping back out again, the whispered words "More like Frank everyday" lingering in the air for a moment after his departure.

Not long after, two dishevelled little boys appeared, happy but slightly fearful smiles lighting up their faces as they slipped out of the room and went back to Neville's, doing their best to appear as if they hadn't been anywhere else that afternoon. Not that such an innocent appearance saved them when Augusta Longbottom discovered that every single article of clothing she owned had been charmed into the most lurid colours and patterns the two boys could imagine.

The formidable woman appeared in the doorway, her regal face darkened in a frown that made both boys gulp with apprehension as Neville silently vowed to _never ever_ listen to Alex again.

"Clearly I have allowed far too much free time for the two of you," she said sternly. "Mr. Whitman and I will be hiring two new tutors to add to your lessons, and you will be expected to join us at Ministry functions from here on out." A grim smile crossed Augusta's face. "If the two of you are mature enough to remember such a variety of spells, then you are mature enough to begin your Head of House training in earnest."

Neville and Alex swallowed, their mouths gone dry, and exchanged resigned and terrified glances. Neville wasn't sure if he should be more pleased or displeased at this particular punishment. At one point in his life there had been doubt that he would ever be a worthy Heir to the House of Longbottom. But at age six, during one of his Grandmother's Christmas parties, Alex had convinced him to try out the wand he had pickpocketed from old Mr. MacDougal, and suddenly no one was worried about Neville being a squib.

Fighting a smile, as he knew Gran would take it the wrong way, Neville looked down as if properly cowed. That had been the first time Alex had earned him a punishment, although it had been more than mitigated by his sheer joy at having succeeded in turning Mrs. MacDougal's hair a fetching shade of pink.

Magic, long denied him, was finally at his beck and call. He had felt it in the wand, a tingle that crept up his arm and reached his core. Compared to the knowledge that he could live up to his parents legacy, how could any punishment even register?

And starting Head of House training at age nine, when he used to lie awake sleepless at night, too afraid of the nightmares in which he was outcast into the strange muggle world, was far from an awful prospect. Raising his head, he gave his Gran a reserved smile. "Thank you, Grandmother; I will treat this honour with the respect it deserves and do the Longbottom name proud."

She looked at him with surprise clear on her usually stern face and Alex shot him a beamingly proud grin. Neville fought an inappropriate giggle and turned his head so that his Gran wouldn't see his answering smile. Alex really was the best, best friend anyone could want, even if he was a little mad.

"Very well," Augusta Longbottom finally said, hints of pleasure and pride in her voice. "You may still spend the night, Alexander, and we will speak of this again when your father comes on the morrow."

Alex nodded, his blue eyes bright with irrepressible good nature, and Neville watched him as his Gran swept out of the room, grinning in amusement as his friend burst into laughter the moment the door was closed behind her. "Good job, Nev. With more tutors, I bet we'll finally get new wands."

Neville nodded thoughtfully. "You just might be right. Of course, if Gran discovers that you stole her husband's wand for this little prank, she'll probably convince your father to make you do everything the muggle way until it's time to leave for Hogwarts."

His best friend's eyes narrowed. "Well, unless you're planning on betraying me, she shouldn't ever find out."

Neville just grinned, more than willing to let Alex sweat a bit. It was only fair considering how many times the other boy had gotten Neville into trouble.

Alex's lips twitched and suddenly the wand in question was being flourished in front of him. "I'll make sure you never talk, Longbottom!" he cried, and Neville laughed as he tumbled off the bed and raced for the door.

"You'll never catch me, Whitman!" he called over his shoulder, then slammed the door behind him as he ran for the wand case that held his mother and father's wands, grinning recklessly.

Life for the Longbottom heir was better than he'd ever hoped it could be.


	3. Tradition

**_Tradition_**

Liz patiently held still as her mother fussed over her dress robes, making sure that every line of fabric was perfectly folded or draped to reveal the delicate gold thread embroidered into the dark blue cloth. Her brother's lips twitched with well concealed amusement as their identical dark eyes met over their mother's head, long familiarity with her quirks enabling them to handle the perfectionism, and the motives behind it, with resigned humour.

Finally the woman stood and surveyed her daughter, lips pressed together in a thin line that did nothing to detract from her beauty, and then gave a short nod of satisfaction. "You look very proper, Elizabeth."

Liz bit back a derisive comment at the contrast between her always proper outwards appearance and her never proper inward thoughts, and gently curtsied instead. "Thank you, mother."

Imelda Zabini gave her daughter a tight smile before turning to look at her son, gently flicking an invisible speck off the shoulder of his robes before giving another nod of apparent satisfaction.

"Very well, let us go. It wouldn't do to keep the Malfoys waiting," she said briskly, walking towards the large ornate fireplace that graced the far wall. Liz rolled her eyes and linked her arm through her brother's as they turned to follow, eager to see Draco, their favourite of the pureblood children, but not so eager for the razor edged dance of formality that was the Saturnalia celebration.

In ancient Roman times the night was a time of celebration amongst muggles, a holiday free from convention, when even the slaves were honoured. Wizards had different traditions, emphasising the strict hierarchy of pureblood culture and the magical rituals to channel the power of the changing seasons. The rites had fallen into disuse around the time Wizarding culture in Britain had achieved independent status, but the formal celebration, the acknowledgment of the power of blood and ancestry and political ties had remained, and while they were spared hosting duties by their mother's dislike of remaining married for a full year, the Zabini name demanded their presence at the most prominent gatherings.

Imelda tossed in the floo powder and the flames flared emerald as she called out "Malfoy Manor" in regal tones before vanishing in a flash of light. Liz followed, and then Blaise, and soon the three of them were standing on the silver veined marble floors of the Manor, where the patriarch and heir of the Malfoy line waited to welcome them.

Imelda and Liz curtsied while Blaise bowed, receiving two inclined nods in response. "Lo, Saturnalia," Lucius greeted smoothly, snapping his fingers to summon a house elf who proffered a tray of drinks, mulsum (honeyed wine) for Imelda, and calda (watered down wine with spices) for the children.

"Lo, Saturnalia," the Zabinis' returned as they accepted their drinks, Imelda retrieving their crimson wrapped guest gift from inside her robes and handing it to the elf who disappeared with a faint pop.

Draco glanced questioningly up at his father and Lucius nodded with a faint smile, causing all three children to repress grins before the Zabini siblings followed Draco into the hallway and towards the sound of voices and music. Liz slipped her hand into Draco's and quietly asked "What's the turn out?"

"The usual mix of politicians, leeches, lower Houses currying favour, and matchmakers. Elise Braddock, Grace Penkridge and Cecilia Alton are getting particularly vicious with the betrothal manoeuvering, so I would avoid them if I were you," he murmured dryly, grey eyes glinting with amusement.

Liz laughed softly, shooting a sly glance at her brother. "What about Lucretia Greengrass? She was eyeing Blaise like a prize steer at Samhain."

Blaise quirked an eyebrow, his hand darting out to pinch her side in retaliation. "Well, given the options, at least Daphne and Astoria are in the right age range and reasonably attractive. Veronica Smethwyk was giving me cow eyes that night, and she's almost as old as Mother."

They all shuddered, grateful that their parents, while traditional, would never expect them to make such a match. The Malfoys and the Zabinis were in the upper echelons of pureblood society, despite certain dark rumours attached to their histories, and although they would be expected to make advantageous matches, they were far less likely to end up trapped in a horrible marriage than those who were desperate to climb up the social ladder.

Given their families' close ties, it was expected that Draco and Liz would make a match, providing no disputes arose, but Imelda had indicated no plans for Blaise, which made him rather twitchy at these sorts of events.

"Even if Mother arranged for someone less than optimal, you could always follow in her footsteps," Liz teased him gently while Draco hid a chuckle behind his hand.

Blaise glared at her lazily before returning his gaze to the mingling guests. "No thank you. Mother's lifestyle involves more paperwork than I'm comfortable with. And it would be nice to have someone I was sort of fond of."

"Only sort of?" a new voice asked mockingly, and they all turned to see the Harding twins staring at them with matching smiles and twinkling blue eyes.

Liz grinned and let go of Draco's hand so she could hug them both. "Hello Tess, Hello Ava, we missed you at Samhain."

Ava grimaced and Tess let out a disgusted sigh. "Edward was off on another business trip, and he doesn't trust our stepmother to 'behave appropriately' when he's not there, so we couldn't come."

Liz smiled sympathetically. Tess and Ava disliked their father, and his wife was worse. Liz might get tired of her mother's appetite for husbands, but at least they never had to put up with them for very long. "Well, at least you're here now. You can join us in protecting Blaise from matchmakers."

All three girls turned to look at Blaise with distinctly predatory smiles and he let out a long suffering sigh. "My own family, tormenting me so."

Liz laughed and pulled away from the twins to slip her arm through her brother's. "That's what family is for, dear brother, and well you know it."

All five of them laughed, eyes meeting in shared dark amusement at just how true Liz's words were in the world they lived in. Family protected you, defined you, and could easily destroy you. None of them would have it any other way.


	4. Lessons

_**Lessons**_

"Have you ever noticed how literal wizard names can be?" Alex asked curiously as he stared down at the book their tutor for History and Wizarding Culture had assigned. "I mean really, Emeric the Evil? Couldn't they come up with something more creative than that?"

"Like what?" Neville asked him, looking up from his book with a faint smile. "Emeric the Godawful Wizard who was hard to kill?"

Alex stuck his tongue out at his best friend and shook his head. "No, that's just awkward. They could have stuck with the alliterative trend. What about Emeric the Eviscerator? Or Emeric the Emulsifier?"

"Emeric the Emulsifier?" Neville asked, raising one of his eyebrows and reminding Alex just a little bit of Augusta Longbottom. "Do you even know what that means?"

"Something to do with potions," Alex said, waving his hand dismissively. "That's not really the point. The point is that names like Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball make our history sound like children's stories."

Neville shrugged. "Uric was an oddball, he wore a jellyfish for a hat, and Emeric was evil; their names make it easier to remember who they were and what they did."

Alex huffed. "It's still boring," he muttered. "Do you want to be remembered as Neville the plant boy?"

Neville grinned at him. "Better than being remembered as Alexander the always in trouble boy." Alex rolled his eyes and Neville chuckled. "Besides, muggles aren't any better. Alexander the Great, Ivan the Terrible."

"You're daring to compare muggle culture to wizarding culture!" Alex said with a fake gasp, clutching at his chest dramatically. "Oh the shame from a pureblood heir, your Grandmother will never recover from the stain of your opinions on the Longbottom name."

Neville laughed and pushed at Alex's chair with his feet, tipping the other boy onto the floor with a clatter. "Your father is the one giving us muggle culture lessons, you twit."

Alex righted his chair and plopped himself back into it, giving a haughty sniff. "As a member of Hogwarts Board of Governors and a dominating member of International Magical Trade, he has reason to be aware of muggles and their world."

Neville returned his haughty sniff with an ever haughtier one and an upturned nose. "And as heir to the Longbottom fortune, titles, and positions, I also have reason to be aware of the muggles and their world. As, I might add, do you."

The two boys indulged in a superiority competition for the next minute before dissolving into giggles, neither able to maintain the air of condescension that some of the other pureblood heirs were so adept at.

Their current tutor chose that moment to return, Charles Whitman regarding his son and his godson with clear amusement before clearing his throat, causing them both to snap to attention. "I see the two of you are done with your homework, if you have begun to entertain yourselves, and must be ready for my lesson to start."

Alex and Neville exchanged a quick glance before turning equally charming grins on the older man. "Not quite, father, we could use a little more time to finish up our papers on important historical figures of the past five hundred years."

"We were, distracted, by some of the details in the lives of some of those figures," Neville added diplomatically.

Charles chuckled. "I understand. There are some very interesting characters in our history, although I do hope you're also paying attention the lessons that apply to the wizarding world as it stands today."

Neville frowned thoughtfully, staring down at his half finished paper. "Mostly I've been noticing how many families have been lost, and how few new ones have been created. Given the number of names that have died out, you would think the Wizengamot would loosen the restrictions for the creation of new Houses."

Alex nodded his agreement. "There are quite a few families that have maintained at least five generations of wizards and witches that could help fill the empty seats if they were allowed to petition for them."

Mr. Whitman gave them an approving smile. "Very good, boys, I'm glad to see the two of you using your intelligence for something other than mischief." Both of them flushed slightly and Alex's father chuckled again, then sighed. "Unfortunately, like many other things, the blame can partially be laid at the feet of You Know Who. Before he began his campaign of terror, there had been progress made towards legislation like you are suggesting, but the war increased the tensions and disparity between the various factions in our world, and we have not yet recovered."

Raising an eyebrow, he carefully met each of their gazes. "However, perhaps with your generation, we can once again create alliances to help rebuild our culture and our world."

Alex and Neville exchanged serious glances, their earlier amusement forgotten as they both felt the weight of their heritage on their shoulders. "We will do our best, father," Alex stated, turning back towards the older man, and Neville nodded his agreement. One day, they both silently vowed, the taint of Voldemort and his followers would be washed from their society.


	5. Rapprochement

_**Rapprochement**_

Liz tugged on Draco's arm and pulled him and her brother away from where Lucius was politicking, sensing the rising anger and disgust in her best friend. Draco loved and respected his father, this she knew, but he was also frustrated with his father's continuing support of the beliefs of a man who had done his best to destroy their world, and who had, in many ways, succeeded. All three of the children were proud of their heritage, of their blood status, and were not ashamed of the many grey areas their family pursued. But none of them agreed with the blatant persecution, narrow-minded traditionalism, nor the isolationism that their parents espoused.

British magical society had a rich culture, but death, war, and infighting had cost them many families and much knowledge. If Voldemort had had his way, none of that culture would have survived, no matter how much he and his followers pretended that they were trying to restore and protect the grandeur of the magical world. The three of them, along with several other of their fellow heirs, had discussed their hopes for the future, and the need for carefully monitored progress if the wizarding world in Britain was to ever reclaim its former glory, and once again take its place as one of the foremost countries in all of the magical world.

"Someday you will dictate the policies of Malfoy House, just as Blaise will for the Zabinis, and then you can speak your mind," she murmured as she drew the two boys into a small alcove beside one of the tables of ordeurves.

Draco's grey eyes still glinted with ice, but he nodded, while Blaise shot her an amused smile. "And what will you be doing, dear sister, while I'm running our House?"

She tossed her hair and affected an arrogant smile. "Why running the Wizengamot, of course, or maybe Hogwarts, we shall see."

"So ambitious," another female voice declared quietly as the Greengrass sisters approached them, Tori's green eyes sparkling with amusement. "I do hope you leave some positions for the rest of us."

Liz laughed, a sparkling sound that drew amused, tolerant, and disdainful glances from the few adults within hearing range. "But of course, my dear Astoria, I could never conquer the wizarding world without my friends."

"Good," Tori stated, flashing a quick grin while her older, shyer sister, smiled more reservedly at them. "Now come mingle with us, we need reinforcements before braving the rest of the heirs."

Liz tilted her head to survey the room, noting the large turnout which included, by reputation in some cases and fact in others, dark, light, and neutral families. There were many children near their age, heirs and their siblings, as well as older children, born before the war or soon after it started. In her brief survey she'd noticed the Nott, Diggory, Bones, Pucey, Bell, and Valenti heirs, and she was sure there were others. Some of those would be friendly due to family ties, some would be unfriendly for the same reasons, and others would be largely neutral, either of their own accord or as a reflection of their parents' political stance.

She sighed. Politics could be quite enjoyable, and was only surpassed in importance by air in pureblood circles, but sometimes she thought it would be nice to mingle with other children without the constant burden of expectation and plotting. Then again, she wasn't actually sure she would know what to do in such an instance.

"Well, shall we enter the fray?" she asked jauntily, slipping her arm through Draco's and giving the other three a bright smile that would fool anyone but them. The other children chuckled, Blaise offered an arm to both Greengrass sisters, and they followed her into the milling crowd.

x

Alex fiercely resisted the urge to roll his eyes as yet another stuffy, old politician completely ignored what he and Neville said to go on about the importance of tradition, and the 'preservation' of their society before wandering away for an 'adult' conversation. Ignorant bigots, all of them, he decided with a scowl, choosing to forget the small subsection of families in the room (light, neutral, and even one or two dark) who were in favour of more progressive ideas.

Tradition was fascinating, and aspects of it were certainly worth preserving, but the preservation the old grumps referred to was merely their desire to maintain the status quo, their greedy grasp on their power blinding them to the decline of British Magical society.

"Stop scowling, there are dangerous and pretty girls approaching," Neville murmured.

Alex turned his head and gave his best friend an amused glance. "We're barely eleven, what do we know about dangerous and pretty girls?"

Neville shot him a stern glance, eerily reminiscent of Madam Longbottom. "We know that we must be clever and careful, for the sake of our future goals, and on the off chance a betrothal arrangement is ever proposed." Then Neville wrinkled his nose, dispelling the illusion of maturity. "My father was the only Longbottom who didn't have a marriage arranged for him before the age of fourteen; I live in constant dread of the moment that Gran tells me she has found a wife for me."

Alex chuckled and finally turned to look at the girls who had Neville so twitchy, raising his eyebrows when he saw that they were not alone, and that all five children they were about to engage in conversation were from dark, or at least grey, families. "I don't think you have to worry about your Gran choosing one of them," he muttered to Neville, then assumed a polite smile and joined his best friend in offering small bows to the group.

Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Elizabeth Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, and Astoria Greengrass all bowed back, equally formal smiles on their faces. "Greetings," Alex stated, accepting the duty of starting the conversation by virtue of being the oldest of the heirs present, even if only by a mere two months. "I hope you are all enjoying your evenings."

"How could we not enjoy the scintillating conversation of such brilliant political minds all gathered in one place?" Elizabeth asked in a perfectly genuine tone, the barest hint of a twinkle in her brown eyes.

Alex carefully hid his surprise and returned her smile.

Beside him Neville laughed softly. "Indeed, Miss Zabini, with such wisdom as is found in this room, we can only bask in their knowledge and hope to learn from their example."

All of them shared grins and Alex blinked back more shock at the ease of such a conversation with children he would expect to hate them and all they stood for. Maybe that goal of creating more unity within the political sphere wasn't such a pipe dream.

Unfortunately, before any of them could speak again, Minister Fudge, closely followed by Lucius Malfoy, reached the seven of them on their circle of the room and all sense of sudden camradery died a quick and painful death, replaced with icy formality as everyone's expressions shifted into blank civility.

"Why, if isn't the best and brightest of our youth," Fudge exclaimed, beaming at all of them with all the empty-headed ignorance of a dazed garden gnome.

"Yes, indeed," Lucius agreed smoothly, the faintest hint of a sneer on his face when his eyes drifted across Neville and Alex, whose father was one of Lucius's staunchest opponents on the Hogwarts Board of Governors.

Alex resisted the urge to roll his eyes and felt intensely grateful when Neville wrapped a hand around his forearm and smiled that perfect pureblood smile of his at the two older men. "Thank you, Minister, but I'm afraid we must be rude and take ourselves away. My grandmother wants to introduce us Mr. Bagman." Neville blushed and Alex idly wondered just when his friend had surpassed him in the lying department. "You know how it is, Quidditch is just so fascinating."

"Of course, of course," Fudge boomed with good humour, waving them away. "Mustn't keep Augusta waiting, she doesn't stand for that sort of nonsense."

Alex and Neville nodded their agreement and slipped away after bowing at him and the others, Alex getting the distinct feeling that the other children desperately wished they could follow. "Since when do you care about Quidditch," he murmured to Neville as they quickly made their way across the room to safer territory.

Neville rolled his eyes. "As if, now come on, there's a supplier of North American magical plants here and your father said I could meet him."

Alex laughed and allowed himself to be tugged along. That sounded a lot more like the Neville he knew. Now if only he could shake the wish that they'd been allowed to chat with the other children longer before being interrupted.


End file.
